


Tis the Season

by vix_spes



Category: Whitechapel (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Team Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 12:07:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5455934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vix_spes/pseuds/vix_spes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wouldn't be Christmas without Secret Santa, would it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tis the Season

There were still another three weeks until Christmas and already the station was well on its way with the feeling of Christmas spirit. Or most of them at least. To DI Joseph Chandler it felt as though the calendar had barely turned to December before there were decorations being strung up everywhere, far too many drunken Santa's occupying the cells and the same festive songs playing on a loop day in and out. He would be the first person to admit that he had never really got the whole festive spirit thing and, in all probability, he never would.

He supposed that it all stemmed from childhood. Christmas in the Chandler household had never been like those celebrated by his friends. They had always been sedate affairs with several large dinner parties where he was expected to be seen and not heard and drinks parties that were tediously dull but that he was expected to attend with his parents. There had been a Christmas tree, tastefully and traditionally decorated of course, and the expected presents which were all educational or solitary pursuits that could be completed in silence. The complete opposite of how he expected his team spent their Christmas'.

Not that he knew how his team spent their Christmas', he was just guessing. Then again, he supposed that he would find out how Miles' family spent Christmas. Or he would if he decided to go. Miles had invited him but had said that there was absolutely no pressure on him. If he wanted to join them then he was more than welcome, but if he felt like it was too much and said no that was fine. Chandler had appreciated the offer, even if he hadn't made a decision yet.

The first year he was with the team, they had invited him to join them but he had declined, feeling uncomfortable and convinced that they had only asked him out of courtesy rather than any true desire for his company. The following year, Christmas had fallen not too long after McCormack's apparent suicide and none of them had really felt like celebrating much. Judging by the enthusiasm shown so far, this year was going to be completely different.

During a lull in cases when they were trying to avoid paperwork, the team had dug a particularly battered box out of a cupboard somewhere and proceeded to bedeck the whole incident room with paper chains and tinsel. Mansell had turned up one day with a box of greenery that had materialised into a small tree which had been decorated and set in a tucked away corner of the incident room while the rest of the box appeared to be mistletoe which had been hung up in strategic places over the station in the hope of Mansell catching one of the female occupants of the building under it. Even Ed's archives had looked remarkably festive the last time that Chandler had ventured down, the shelves wrapped in tinsel and the rather creepy juxtaposition of a dancing Father Christmas perched on a box of files concerning a serial strangler in the States. Chandler's office, usually sacrosanct, hadn't escaped unscathed although, in deference to his habits, they had restrained themselves to a single string of fairy lights around the door frame of his office.

This time around he was far more involved and no longer felt as though his team were involving him simply to be courteous. It was complete bedlam and, although it was hard to deal with on occasion, he found himself enjoying things far more than he had originally thought.

In addition to Mansell's attempts at catching as many unsuspecting women under the mistletoe as possible, Kent had started turning up with drinks in ever-increasing bizarre flavours – at least to Chandler's mind. So far, he had arrived with peppermint, eggnog and gingerbread flavoured beverages – all of them just yet more ammunition for Mansell and Miles than his normal 'crap-uccinos'. Miles was wandering around with several lists in his hands muttering and phoning what seemed to be a different toy shop every hour and Riley was cursing over her daughters angel costume for the school nativity play.

Then there was the fact that Judy apparently thought that they were all starving and seemed to send Miles with a new tin of mince pies or spice biscuits or something every two days. None of them were complaining because Judy was an amazing baker but, well, they were all secretly hoping that they didn't get a case that required them to run after any suspects because with the amount of food they had eater, they didn't think they could run. Riley moaning about how her attempts to diet had already been shot to pieces was now a daily occurrence while Chandler had quietly increased the frequency of his gym visits.

They were even holding a 'Secret Santa' gift exchange amongst the team, something that had filled Chandler with dread. He wasn't good at buying presents – never had been – and he'd certainly never participated in a Secret Santa before. The other cadets in his year at Hendon had run one but he hadn't been invited to join in and there had never really been much of an opportunity since then. Hell, he hadn't even been sure how it worked. Luckily, Miles had realised this and had come into Chandler's office to explain how it worked and the rule that they had in place to control the amount of money that they spent on each gift.

All in all, by the time that they got to actually picking the names out of a hat, Chandler was feeling positively relaxed, the fact that he was only going to have to buy one present having seriously lowered his stress levels. He wasn't going to lie, he was a bit nervous as to what he might receive as his gift – particularly if Mansell turned out to be his Secret Santa – but he had no control over that and he had resolved that, whatever his gift was, he would accept it with the same good nature that I had been given with. Even so, he couldn't help hoping that any member of the team other than Mansell picked his name out of the hat. When the time came for Chandler to pick a name out of the hat that Miles had filled with slips of paper, he couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief when he opened up the folded slip.

Kent.

So, he was Kent's Secret Santa. That wasn't too bad. After all, Kent couldn't be too difficult to buy a gift for. Could he?

~*~

By the time that their last day before Christmas arrived, Chandler had to admit that his festive spirit was waning somewhat. The whole team seemed to have gone into Christmas overdrive – even Miles – and Chandler wasn't quite sure how to deal with it all. He was certainly looking forward to the peace and quiet of his flat for a couple of days. Officially, the team had the whole of Christmas off with another team taking the lead while Chandler's team were on duty for New Years. Then again, knowing their luck, who knew what would happen.

They were supposed to be working on paperwork until the end of the day but Chandler had known by 9.15 that morning that the day was pretty much going to be a write-off. For a start, not a single member of the team had turned up in their usual smart clothing. Chandler had worked so hard to get them looking presentable and it had all gone out of the window with every single one of them turning up wearing one of those Christmas jumpers that seemed to be all the fashion these days.

In their defence, at least Miles and Riley's jumpers could be described as tasteful. The same couldn't be said about Kent's or Mansell's. Kent's looked as though it had been knitted by his grandmother; a particularly bobbly Christmas tree complete with bells, sequins and even flashing lights, all in rather garish colours. In contrast, Mansell's was simply obnoxious. It featured a rather lewd Santa wearing fishnets and doing something to Rudolph that Chandler didn't even want to contemplate.

To be honest, Chandler wasn't sure what was worse; Mansell's jumper or the constant assault on Chandler's eardrums. It seemed as thought they had had the same few Christmas songs playing for weeks on end now. Then, to top it all off, Mansell had brought in a reindeer toy that seemed to be on some sort of motion sensor; every single time that someone walked past it the nose flashed red, it started dancing and playing Jingle Bells. The only problem was that the sensor was too sensitive and the bloody thing never seemed to stop. Chandler had been battling a migraine all week as a result but he didn't ant to tell to stop for fear of acting like Scrooge.

Nevertheless, he could have cried in relief when Miles started to produce various bottles and boxes of alcohol mid-afternoon, even if their shift wasn't officially over. He was even happier when a tumbler of clear liquid was pressed into his hands by a positively jolly Miles, one swallow telling him that it was top quality vodka. They had all partaken of several drinks when Miles produced the box of presents from the cupboard where they had all been secretly depositing them all week. Nervousness that his gift wouldn't be adequate overtook Chandler once more.

He needn't have worried. Kent had loved the gift that Chandler had picked out, enthusing about the ridiculously over-sized coffee mug, flavoured syrups and some truly bizarre coffee flavours. Miles had been pleased as punch with his sizeable bottle of scotch while Riley had been delighted with some vouchers that entitled her to some pampering. They had all had a good laugh over the fact that someone had bought Buchan a game of Cluedo and Mansell's gift of festive boxers and matching socks. Chandler was the last to receive his gift and he couldn't help but be a bit tentative as he unwrapped it. Something that was completely unnecessary as it turned out. Whoever his Secret Santa – and now he really wanted to know – they had bought him a very nice shirt, exactly the type that he liked to wear, and a couple of jars of tiger balm.

It buoyed his mood, even if he couldn't thank his mystery benefactor, and suddenly he didn't mind the music too much or Mansell's eyesore of a jumper. He even accepted a second tumbler of vodka, quirking his mouth slightly at Miles' raised eyebrow.

“A little indulgence, Joe?”

“Why not Miles? 'Tis the season after all...”

**Author's Note:**

> If you would prefer to comment on LJ, you can do so [here](http://vix-spes.livejournal.com/223493.html)


End file.
